


Red

by takaraikarin



Category: My Chemical Romance, Taking Back Sunday
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Tour Bus Sex, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takaraikarin/pseuds/takaraikarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the color for the unknown is red, like cowardice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

  
**Title:** Red  
 **Author:** Takarai Karin  
 **Fandom:** My Chemical Romance  
 **Pairing:** Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Adam Lazzara/Gerard Way  
 **Rating: R**  
 **Summary:** the color for the unknown is red, like cowardice.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own My Chemical Romance. This is fanfiction, it is fake, and it never happened (tho who am I to judge that?)

 

If there’s one thing he knew about Gerard Way that would be how he had always been in love with the world. That, of course, may sound weird for some people, especially those who think they know him well and just easily shove him into the pile of ex-teenage-outcast, and therefore must’ve loathed the whole universe.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

Gerard is very fond of it; he worries over it, that’s why he always sounds like he cared, because that’s the truth: he cared a lot. He sometimes sees it like an ancient old-lady who along the way had forgotten a lot about who she was, about the purpose of her existence, and about the children she nurtured between her arms. But he himself never forgets that, and he still remembers her beauty from days long gone.

He pauses there as he realizes that the way Gerard sees life is perhaps a lot like how he saw his Grandmother.

It’s a good thing that Gerard loved the world, really, but sometimes Frank thinks that he should lay-low on the worrying part for a bit. _It won’t magically self-implode even if you don’t worry it sick, Gee._ He said that to himself but he never says them out loud.

 

 

 

 

If there’s another thing that Frank knows about Gerard that would be how he’s most passionate about his music. It’s there in his eyes every time he talks about it, and that’s why Frank had always love sitting down to an interview with him. His fingers would practically tingle, waiting for the interviewer to start asking stuff about their music, their vision, and when they actually do, Frank would find himself unconsciously leaning towards the light in Gerard’s eyes, and the small smile on his face as he calmly explain the band’s view of it.

At those times Gerard always looked almost gleeful, like he himself holds the secrets to the universe.

It made something burn inside his stomach, for some reason, but he never lets himself ponder it too much.

But sometimes there’s a high price to pay for that passion too, and it’ll be obvious in the exhaustion in him. He’s always out there with his heart on his designer-made sleeve on every show, willingly sending it out to the crowd to be treated as they wish. And sometimes they came home still without any understanding of the band’s –okay, Gerard’s- ideals, and sometimes they came home still _ignorant_ and _bigoted_ and instead of questioning their own view they became more certain that they were the ones that got it just _right._

They came home after stomping around Gerard’s heart and Frank could only silently look at the devastation in his eyes, telling himself that he’s only noticing all of this out of friendly concerns.

 

 

 

 

If there’s one thing he _doesn’t_ know about Gerard, though, that would be how above everything, he just wants to let go.

It may sound a bit depressing at first, but it really isn’t about letting go of the faith he have. Not about that, no. It’s about letting go of the control, of the responsibility, of the role he’d accepted as the one that _cares_ , the one that _worries_ , for just a few moments.

At first Frank doesn’t get that, doesn’t understand how sometimes Mikey would grab his brother’s chin, would pry him from the laptop and went- ‘that’s enough for today, Gee,’ and he’s even more confuse when Gerard would only put little resistance to the command, but he chalk it up as a sibling thing.

‘It’s getting harder for him these days,’

It was the line that Mikey said to him one day. The two of them was standing around one of the dressing rooms, and Mikey had this worried look on his face.

‘He doesn’t talk to me anymore, not as much,’ the younger one of them says again, and Frank wondered why his mind made a protesting noise that sounds a lot like _‘so yeah, you guys’re close, dyou need to rub in my face?’_

When he realizes that Mikey had grown quiet, he turns his head and found himself being pinned by a pair of open eyes. A pair of open and _pleading_ eyes. ‘He needs someone to talk to’ the blond starts again. ‘It’s starting to get under his skin, you know, the pressure? And he just needs someone to open himself to. Unload. Be…I don’t know, _controlled_ , instead of being in control all the time.’ And there goes those eyes again, and Frank fights with the urge to grit his teeth. ‘I just can’t do that job,’ his voice changes into a mere whisper and Frank silently finishes the line for him: _‘No matter how much you want to, yeah?’_

When he once again stared back at him, though, he finds himself panicking a bit. _What? What’s with the staring now? You don’t actually expect me to_ do _something? What_ can _I do?_

‘Mike, if he doesn’t even listen to you, why would he listen to me?’ he reasons, his voice weak, and when he saw a flicker of disappointment in Mikey’s eyes he feels like he wants to throw up.

He hates how sometimes Mikey reflects the look he sees in Gerard’s eyes.

 

 

 

 

He had always thought that he knew a whole lot about Gerard Way, and the one thing he _doesn’t_ know for sure, was confirmed to him by his own brother. So theoretically speaking there’s nothing concerning Gerard that could surprise him anymore, right? Well, theoretically, perhaps.

So why does it surprise him a lot when he notices how Gerard laughs a bit more these days? Not that Frank opposes to seeing his smile, of course, that’s not the case at all, it’s just that usually, the majority of those smiles were directed at him. It’s not just the smiles, too, there’s the looks, the brilliance of his eyes, the general warmth his presence exudes. Usually, most of them were something that Frank savors at a close proximity.

So it keeps him off balance when he sees them from a distance, being given towards a different person altogether.

He wonders quietly when did Gerard became close with Adam Lazzara, and how the hell he never notices it before. He also wonders why he never notice how- _quiet_ his surroundings are when the older boy wasn’t there with him.

‘He’s unloading,’ a voice suddenly says beside him and Frank turns to again finds himself eye-to-eye with Mikey Way, ‘he’s giving up control,’ he continues as they both watches Gerard laughing out loud at something Adam says.

‘…you’re letting him,’ it wasn’t a question, not really.

Mikey shrugs, ‘he does the job, and it’s not like he’s objecting to it. Not at all,’ he stares at Frank levelly, eyes half challenging and half accusing, exactly like what he had received from Gerard just a few nights back, and the chills running down his spine was almost enough to make him splutter in indignation, to defend himself, explains his side, and somehow cover the tracks of his own cowardice.

Almost.

When he stays silent, Mikey huffs, like that’s exactly what he’s expecting anyway.

 

 

 

 

What Gerard wants was to unload, and he does it while letting Adam took some of his burden off of him. Let go. Forget. And he would lick the creases in between Gerard’s eyebrows when he thinks he’s thinking too much.

Gerard would giggle, he would smile, and then let Adam distracts him anyway he wants to. He’s giving up control after all.

And they were being careful about it, they were being discreet, because the two of them happens to be very private people, but somehow –he’s not really sure why- Frank finds himself getting glimpses of their intimacy quite often. It really doesn’t make sense. Perhaps his luck was just fucking around with him.

And he’s positive that his luck was having a blast the moment he stops his track outside the door in the bus that separates their beds to the rest of the tour bus. The door was slightly ajar, only slightly, but he still could see pale expanses of naked skin and something stabs at his chest. For all of the times Gerard spent screaming on stage, he seems to be pretty quiet in bed. There are only sharp intakes of breaths that have the same tempo with the creaking sound of the bed, the same tempo with each time he saw Adam pounding into him.

He stands there rooted as he was presented with Adam’s back, noticing how Gerard’s long legs had wrapped themselves around the other man’s waist. More gasping from Gerard, more grunting from Adam, and Frank could only notice how the inside of Gerard’s mouth was obscenely red.

Red like shame.

Frank turns around without taking the guitar pick he was about to get earlier –the damnable pick that made him walk back to the bus, the one thing to blame for him being there in the first place- and walks out of the bus. After a couple of steps he hears somebody calling his name. It was Mikey.

‘Hey Frank, I found your pick. It was in _my_ case, you dolt, why didn’t you look there?’ he said, tossing the aforementioned item to the man that could only stand still there in the middle of the parking lot. He catches it, and is promptly annoyed by its coloring.

It was red like cowardice.

**Stop.**  



End file.
